


Scars Make Us Who We Are

by TheOnlyOrigamiDinosaurLeft



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ianto is kinda sad and jack is all nice, Im tired, Intense fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, its 2:35am please read this, kind of spoilers for Torchwood Audiobook: Hidden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyOrigamiDinosaurLeft/pseuds/TheOnlyOrigamiDinosaurLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror next to his toilet. It had been 3am when he’d been woken by a sudden urge to pee, and as he was standing to leave, he had caught his own reflection. Ianto studied his face and torso in the mirror. His eyes were red bloodshot from the exhaustion and his skin was an odd grey colour under the harsh lights of his bathroom.<br/>Ianto's scars are a part of who he is, but with a man like Jack in his life; so physically untouched by all his long life, its easy to learn to resent them and all of their memories. Jack teaches him that scars tell a story and just because his are invisible, it doesn't mean they aren't there.<br/>Lots of fluff, fluff and more fluff. Slight spoilers for the Torchwood Audiobook: Hidden. but really its not important. if you haven't listened to it you will just miss a teeny reference.<br/>Enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars Make Us Who We Are

Ianto sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror next to his toilet. It had been 3am when he’d been woken by a sudden urge to pee, and as he was standing to leave, he had caught his own reflection. He had yet to look away. Ianto could hear Jack’s heavy breaths from in the bedroom, only a few feet away. It had been a busy day for the 3 of them; weevil alerts, artefacts, space tourists who didn’t understand the word no and a rather pesky cover up after a girl was killed by a rouge blowfish. Ianto had suffered a mild knife injury to his stomach while trying to detain the blowfish, nothing to worry about, barely a scratch. But it stung like a bitch.

Ianto studied his face and torso in the mirror. His eyes were red bloodshot from the exhaustion and his skin was an odd grey colour under the harsh lights of his bathroom. What shocked him most was the amount of scars and marks he could see. It was if he had never seen them before tonight, the way he noticed them… the angry looking red line across his lower belly drew his eyes quickly. It hadn’t bled much but he could still feel it every time he moved. It would cause a faint scar that would be there a month or two before it faded like so many others.

However so many more were still visible on his pale canvas of a chest. On his left arm he had a scar from a bullet he took months back, Owen had called him a tit for getting caught in the fire, but patched him up anyway. Another bullet wound on his right shoulder was more visible, a pink and white circle about the size of a 50p coin that was rough yet oddly smooth to touch. There was a quarter inch scar above his left nipple from when he childhood dog had jumped up and scratched him; the one on the back of his hand from when he had burnt it opening an oven door; if he looked close enough he would see the 4cm long scar at his hairline from where he had been hit with the butt of a gun, all those months ago… so many scars that he could see, and even more that he could not.

At his lower back there was a jagged line 5 inches high that ran from the bottom of his spine, upwards. The scar was slightly to the right and was left there after he had been thrown out of his car and had a piece of slate embedded in his back. That had only been a few months ago, and the scar was still new, likely to never fade. He winced at the memory as he ran his fingers down it. At his left shoulder he had a long burn scar from Canary Wharf, left there after he made contact with seething metal trying to free Lisa. His other scars from that day had long faded, but that one served as his only physical reminder of the day.

He sighed at his own reflected again and decided to grab a warm drink before heading back to bed, his mind to agitated to sleep. He heard the sound of Jack shifting in bed and turned back to the man. Jack had sat up, leaning on one elbow and wiping at his eyes.

“Ianto? Why you up?”

Ianto shuffled back over to the bed and perched on its edge. He took in the sight of his lover’s chest. He was tan, had defined muscles, broad shoulders and collarbones that could kill a man. Not one single scar. Ianto coughed a looked away.

“Just couldn’t sleep. I’m going to get a drink, you want anything?”

Jack shook his head but grabbed Ianto’s wrist and pulled it to his chest when the younger man moved to get up.

“I want you to tell me what’s bothering you? Is it Tosh and Owen? I know its been tough since they… I’m here though, if you want to… if you want to talk.”

Ianto shook his head.

“No I. It’s not them. I mean, I miss them, of course I do… everyday…”

“But?”

Ianto adverted his eyes again, looking down at his own chest, and all of his imperfections. Jack, without thinking, ran the tip of his index finger down the edge of the new scratch, making Ianto hiss slightly.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “Is it this? Are you… hurt?”

Ianto looked up and saw the worry in Jacks eyes. He shook his head.

“No, I’m fine, it was barely a scratch…”

“Then what Ianto?”

Jack sat up more and brushed a kiss to Ianto’s cheek.

“You don’t have any scars.”

Ianto said it matter of fact, still not really looking at Jack.

The older man was startled, he didn’t know how to respond.

“No… No I don’t. You know why? I heal-”

“-I know you heal Jack.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Ianto sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing he had just shut up. Deep down he knew that wouldn’t of worked, Jack could read him too well when something was bothering him.

“I have… I have tons of them. Everywhere. And you don’t and you look… and I look. Oh I don’t know.”

He stood up off the edge of the bed and walked into the kitchen to set the water boiling for a cup of tea. He knew Jack would be right behind him so wasn’t surprised when a pair of warm hands looped around his waist.

“You have scars on the outside. It’s not that I don’t have scars Ianto, you just can’t see them. If you could see all my scars, you would probably be unable to see my face, and that would be terrible for you.”

Ianto huffed out a small laugh and turned to face Jack in his arms.

“Ianto, I don’t hate your scars, I don’t even really notice them. They’re all you, a part of your story.”

Ianto let his head duck, feeling tired and sad and happy all at once.

“What about the ones that remind you…” Ianto’s breath caught in his throat. “The ones that remind you about the times I nearly died?”

Ianto thought about lying on the side of that cliff, slate in his back, all alone… cold, scared… broken. He thought about the scar on his back and the pain he still sometimes felt.

Jack smiled softly and brushed a wisp of hair out of Ianto’s eye.

“They serve to remind me that you are still here, and that I need to appreciate that face because… because one day you won’t be.”

The kettle clicked off as the water boiled but Ianto had forgotten all about tea. Jack was kissing him, and Ianto let him, responding as much as he could in his tired state. Jack pulled back and rested his forehead on Ianto’s

“Your scars make you who you are Ianto, and I love them as much as the rest of you. So stop worrying.”

Ianto’s sleep addled mind decided to ignore Jack’s mild confession of vague love at 3 in the morning, it just wasn’t time yet. He smiled again at Jack, then led him back to bed, where they caught the last wisps of sleep before their world began turning all over again.


End file.
